


Cranberry

by sleapea



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A little spicy, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Flirty Lance, Keith doesn't want to be there, Lance and Keith are at a party, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), Short, Short & Sweet, but he wants to be with lance uwu, college au ish, keith pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 12:43:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18052718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleapea/pseuds/sleapea
Summary: Keith’s eyes are back on him the second he knows Lance isn’t looking anymore andGod— he laughs again, and Keith can’t help but stare. Lance’s cheeks are flushed from drinking, freckles peppered over a canvas of pink as his cheeks dimple around a smile. His hair is mused and messy from the heat, from running his fingers through it, and small strands are beginning to curl at the back of his neck.Keith doesn’t know if it’s the whisky, but he really wants to kiss him (well, he knows it’s not the whisky. But the whisky definitely isn’t helping). Hereallywants to kiss him. And he knows that he shouldn’t want to, but fuck if it doesn’t stop him fromwanting.





	Cranberry

**Author's Note:**

> HC that Keith is really suave but it’s entirely by accident.  
> Lance is a drama queen in all universes

The party is loud. Too loud, he thinks. Too loud, and full of too many people. It’s making his head spin. 

He really hadn’t wanted to come, if he’s being honest. He takes a sip of his drink, leans against the kitchen counter, and wonders, for a moment, why on Earth he’s here?

That’s when he looks up, and he sees him.

From where he leans against the kitchen counter, he can see Lance in the other room. He has his arm slung over Pidge’s shoulder, and it looks like they’re talking to a group of classmates. Pidge huffs up at him, but he pretends not to notice. Then, he laughs, big and open and easy, at something someone in the group says. It looks like he’s having fun.

Lance looks up. He doesn’t see him right away, but when he does, their eyes lock. Lance looks away fast, as if he hadn’t seen him. Keith shrugs, turning away his gaze. A few moments later, he can feel Lance’s eyes back on him, and he grins. Mostly, because he can’t help it. A little bit, because he knows it’ll get to Lance. 

Keith’s eyes are back on him the second he knows Lance isn’t looking anymore and _God_ — he laughs again, and Keith can’t help but stare. Lance’s cheeks are flushed from drinking, freckles peppered over a canvas of pink as his cheeks dimple around a smile. His hair is mused and messy from the heat, from running his fingers through it, and small strands are beginning to curl at the back of his neck. 

Keith doesn’t know if it’s the whisky, but he really wants to kiss him (well, he knows it’s not the whisky. But the whisky definitely isn’t helping). He _really_ wants to kiss him. And he _knows_ that he shouldn’t want to, but fuck if it doesn’t stop him from _wanting_. 

Lance meets his eyes again, and this time, Keith knows it was on purpose. He wants to kiss the freckle that sits at the edge of his smile. 

He watches as Lances eases himself from his friend group, ruffles Pidge’s hair. He wants to trace the outline of his cupids bow, run his thumb over his lower lip. 

He watches as he makes his way over, through the crowd in the next room. He wants to tilt his chin up slow, breathe him in — 

Lance comes up beside him, breaking his daydream. He leans against the counter next to him, red solo cup in hand, before turning to him and grinning. 

“Whatcha doing over here, all on your lonesome?” He drawls, head tilting in his direction. 

Maybe it’s the whisky, but Keith feels like he takes his time looking him over. His t-shirt is loose enough to reveal the slimmest bit of collarbone when he shifts to face him, and Keith swallows. 

“Nothing,” he says, voice rough. He wishes he had the control that Lance did, the ability to coat his voice in sugar and let it pour sweet like honey. But he doesn’t, and instead, it grates between them like sandpaper. Lance raises an eyebrow. 

“It looks like you’re brooding,” he says, taking a sip from his cup. His lips are stained red from whatever he’s drinking. “You should come join the rest of us.” But Keith doesn’t want to join the rest of them. Actually, he’s happy just like this, with Lance next to him. He wants him to stay, wants to keep talking to him, wants to —

“Do you want to try this?” Lance says, eyes lighting up as he lowers his cup from his lips. “Hunk made it for me, it’s really good! I forget what he called it… but it’s definitely better than whatever you’re drinking.” He snorts, something he only does after a few drinks, laughing at his own joke. Keith doesn’t want to find it endearing, but he does. 

“Yeah,” he turns to face him, voice low. “Can I?” 

Lance grins, holds his cup out to him. And, it’s definitely the whisky… but Keith grabs his wrist instead, pulls him closer. Leans in and captures Lance’s mouth in one, fluid motion. Lance tenses at first, but he doesn’t pull away. Keith draws back slowly, contemplating. 

“Cranberry,” he whispers, “It tastes like cranberries.” Lance flushes a deep pink, and Keith realizes what he’s done.

“O-oh,” Lance stutters, clearly taken aback “Is that what it is…” He averts his eyes, blush reaching his ears.

“Shit.” Eloquence is not his strong suit. “I’m so sorry Lance, I don’t… I shouldn’t have done that.” He releases Lance’s wrist, and Lance draws it back, sets his drink down on the counter. 

“Hmm…” Lance hums, slowly shifting his eyes back to meet Keith’s. “You’re right… you shouldn’t have done that.” His tone is even, and Keith deflates. 

“You totally ruined the moment when you apologized. Shouldn’t have done it.” He continues after a long pause, almost casually. But there’s a playful lilt to his voice. “It was really smooth until then… I was practically swooning.” And Keith _gapes_.

“Do you remember,” Lance muses after a few moments, voice quiet as a smile toys at his lips. “When I said that you were probably drinking something terrible?”

“Well, you didn’t say it like _that_ , but —” 

“It wasn’t that bad.” He cuts him off, takes a step closer to him. Rests his hand tentatively on the counter next to Keith’s hip. “I would hazard to say, I kind of _liked_ it…”

Before he can continue, Keith’s already diving back in, slotting their lips together. Lance laughs into him, against him, and the sweet taste of cranberries fills his mouth. The room is hot — so is their skin, and so is their breath, but it doesn’t stop Keith from lifting his hand to cup his jaw, tilt him closer. When they part, he pulls back enough to let a thumb trace along the curve of his lip. It’s soft, and his heart skips. 

“God,” Keith laughs, low and clumsy, nerves finally bubbling to the surface. “You scared me for a second.” 

“Good.” Lance shrugs, leaning away from him. He takes another sip of his drink without breaking their eyes. “It’s your punishment for taking so long.” He’s smiling again, but this time, coy. Keith’s not sure what kind of expression he’s making, but Lance takes one look at it and laughs. He picks up his drink with one hand, and takes Keith’s hand in the other.

“Come on, let’s go. Shiro wants to see you.” He coaxes, guiding Keith into the crowd in the next room. “And maybe, if you’re lucky, Hunk will make you one of these.” He lifts his drink, winks, and then turns to begin making his way back through the crowd with Keith in tow. 

“I think I like yours better,” he whispers. Lance squeezes his hand, and from above the music and chatter, he can still hear the laugh that escapes him. 

For the first time in his life, Keith thanks the whisky.

**Author's Note:**

> What am I even writing anymore? Good question idk
> 
> \-- --- --
> 
>   
> Click [here](https://linktr.ee/sleapea) for links to my ~socials~ owo


End file.
